to be with those i like is enough
by Trumpet-Geek
Summary: [phichit & yuuri friendship, viktuur] If he'd told Yuuri's 2015 self that one day he'd be engaged to his idol and sweeping podiums all over the world, he's sure that Yuuri would have laughed in his face.


**to be with those i like is enough**

by: tg  
summary: He's seen pictures, of course, thanks to having been Yuuri's roommate and therefore having been subjected to Yuuri's near-obsession with Viktor. He thought he was intimately familiar with how looming and industrial and spartan the architecture feels, and how prettily the early morning sun filters through the expanse of windows and lights the ice with cotton candy colors from the photo shoots for Viktor's interviews and Team Russia's promo for the Olympics.

It's nothing compared to seeing it in real life.

warnings: none

 **originally posted on december 25, 2017**

* * *

Phichit steps through the wide glass doors of Yubileyny Sports Palace and stops in the middle of the entryway, his mouth gaping as he stares around in awe.

He's seen pictures, of course, thanks to having been Yuuri's roommate and therefore having been subjected to Yuuri's near-obsession with Viktor. He thought he was intimately familiar with how looming and industrial and spartan the architecture feels, and how prettily the early morning sun filters through the expanse of windows and lights the ice with cotton candy colors from the photo shoots for Viktor's interviews and Team Russia's promo for the Olympics.

It's nothing compared to seeing it in real life.

He pulls out his phone and snaps a couple of photos he thinks will look amazing in Instagram's inkwell filter, but before he can test it out he hears the dulcet tones of his best friend calling his name.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Just like the interviews," Yuuri says next to him, his voice uncharacteristically smug.

"It is," he agrees. "I can't believe this is your home rink now, Yuuri."

Phichit feels his voice and his chest swell with pride. Yuuri's story is the kind of love story people want to make movies about. He doesn't mean the story between him and Viktor, although that is also the kind of love story people want to make movies about; he means the love story between Yuuri and the ice. Phichit has only known Yuuri for a handful of years but he's witnessed first-hand the kind of work and dedication Yuuri has poured into the ice. He's loved it unconditionally, through the hurt and the doubt and the pain and the disappointments, sometimes even in spite of itself.

The 2015-2016 season was not kind to Yuuri — the sixth place finish in Sochi, the failure to even qualify for All-Japan.

He'd gone home and clawed his way back up from the brink of retirement, getting silver in Barcelona, gold in Osaka and Gangneung, and silver in Helsinki. And now here he is, in Viktor Nikiforov's home rink — which is now _his_ home rink — looking soft and relaxed in a way Phichit hasn't seen in a long, long time. Maybe not ever.

If he'd told Yuuri's 2015 self that one day he'd be engaged to his idol and sweeping podiums all over the world, he's sure that Yuuri would have laughed in his face.

In all the years Phichit had lived with him in Detroit, he'd never seen Yuuri go home.

It used to be something that puzzled Phichit, because if given the opportunity he would've flown home in a heartbeat. All through his college years he'd missed his parents and his siblings and the taste of Thai food – like, _actual_ Thai food and not the stuff that the 'oriental restaurant' around the corner from the Detroit Skate Club _says_ is Thai food. He'd missed the tropical heat and the strength of the sun's rays on his skin. He'd missed not having to work so hard to exist like he did while in Detroit; the constant translation of language and culture had been exhausting.

(Yuuri had called them 'three-aspirin headaches' because he'd understood that particular pain, too – it's something they'd bonded over in their first few weeks of roommate-ship, along with the struggle to find 'the good rice' for their overworked rice cooker.)

No matter how many times Yuuri qualifies for All-Japan, he never bothered to take a few extra days to visit his family, and he never talked about why.

Phichit thought he'd understood, a little. He lived with Yuuri for years, had the privilege to become intimately familiar with the way he thinks and processes emotions. He'd seen Yuuri struggle against his own anxiety and self-worth, truly believing that he didn't deserve the things he'd earned through hard work.

It hadn't been much a stretch to imagine that Yuuri might feel the same way about love, too.

And then one day he did – go home, that is. After what he'd perceived to be the lowest point in his career he'd dropped his coach, paid the landlord in advance and taken his name off the lease, and left. Phichit had ached for him for a long, long time, missing his friend like he might miss a limb.

Next to him, this new Yuuri's smile softens into something sweet and fond as they enter the practice rink and his eyes alight on the Russian team messing around on the ice. His rinkmates, now. "Yeah. I don't know how I got so lucky."

Phichit wants to say, _it's not luck, Yuuri_. Wants to say, _you are the hardest working person I have ever met, and you are far harder on yourself than anyone should ever be._ You _made this happen for yourself and you deserve every moment of happiness and every comfort of home._

Instead he says, "remember that time Ciao Ciao caught you kissing Viktor's poster in the rink lounge and you refused to come to practice for a full week?"

Yuuri splutters and flails. "Phichit! Oh my god."

"Stay humble Yuuri. Remember your roots."

"Why are you like this," Yuuri groans, but instead of shrinking away in embarrassment he's smiling, fond of the boy he'd been and even fonder of the memories they share.

Phichit hadn't been around to witness the metamorphosis that Yuuri had gone through that year, had missed the soft bloom of love that colored Yuuri's cheeks a gentle pink whenever he gazed at his new coach. The Cup of China had been insightful; the Grand Prix Final a revelation.

Seeing it now – seeing how much _happier_ Yuuri is here, how much more beautiful and confident he is underneath the familiarity of the anxiety – settles him in ways he hadn't known he'd needed to be settled.

"Yuuri! Phichit! Come skate with us!" Mila calls across the open space. He and Yuuri sit down and put their skates on and it's just like old times, except it's not. Viktor greets his fianc é at the gate and Yuuri smiles up at him with an expression so full he looks like he could burst with it. Phichit watches as Viktor kisses him warm and sweet as Mila catcalls from across the rink, watches as Yuri grudgingly asks him for help with his tanos as soon as they step out onto the ice, and Georgi regales Yuuri with the latest drama in his favorite soap opera while leaking tears.

Phichit grins and dives into the insanity head-first.

It's obvious that Yuuri has found his home.


End file.
